For Those Who Are Spiritually Homeless

I have a memory of belonging, of feeling at home.

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On the Wings of Hope

July 3, 1954. She sat alone at the end of the counter while noise and laughter rose and fell around her. She hardly noticed the soda placed in front of her by the waitress with the sweet Southern drawl. While she was trying to hold onto hope, sadness settled in as she replayed the months that…

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Staying in Love and Hope

What does he see when he looks at me now? Does he even see me? A version of me, certainly But the real me?

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Mother of Laughter

On that day, Yahweh made a covenant with Abram. Pilgrims travel, not because they believe God lies ahead somewhere, but because they know God is beneath their feet. Or at least they’re suspicious of it. A pilgrim once told me, before she left the trees of Mamre, “Yahweh is in the flesh beneath your chest, which you…

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Walking Towards a Wedding 

As the days ticked by until my wedding, morning twilight frequently found me sitting in pajamas with red spectacles and a messy bun, sipping from a large mug of coffee not quite large enough. October arrived, and my days kept starting earlier, often before sunrise as a random thought tied to the coming festivities stirred…

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The Inner Landscape

Since our retirement seven years ago, my husband Jim and I have explored much of the United States. We have lived out of our RV for six months a year, traveling between points A and B. With each back-and-forth trek across the country, our realization grew of how much more there was to see. There…

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Hope Is Not a Lost Cause

I started to lose you on Christmas Day. Never have I experienced such agony as my worst fear unfolded into reality. I didn’t understand what miscarriage could be—the intensity of the physical process; bodily desperation as my reaching arms tried to hold on, tried to save my child who is already gone; the depth of…

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Rare Finds

One short block away is the beach. The soundtrack of the waves rolling consistently onto the shore travels the distance in the cool and refreshing tailwinds. Wrapped in a large beach towel, I notice the softness and warmth of its fabric and the vertical stripes of its rainbow colors. Sitting in the dark of morning,…

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10-Cent Ice Cream Cones

In the late Sunday summer afternoons of Eastern North Dakota, the sun is already beating its way through our Ford Pinto windows and onto the black vinyl seats we are about to gingerly put our bare skin on. There are four of us who need to get into the car and, luckily, no car seats…

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